


Guardian Something

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Series: 100% hot badass [1]
Category: 24, Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack obtains an unlikely protector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharpiesgal (TigerLily)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerLily/gifts).



> Written for the Help Japan auctions. And because I love Jack/David, and really, Jack had to get his badassery from -somewhere-....

Jack's 24, the first time it happens. He's in Columbia as part of the Seventh Special Forces Division, trying to establish a battalion against the thriving narcotics industry. Except right here, now, he's tied to a chair with a bag over his head, too terrified to understand the Spanish that's being spoken around him apart from one word that he thinks means that he's either going to get killed or sold to slave traders. He's not sure which would be better. He thinks that maybe his father was right, that joining the special forces was a fucking stupid mistake, that he's not going to make a difference. That he'll just end up dead. Very quickly.

He hears a bang, suddenly, like someone's kicked in the door. There's a moment of silence, and then he hears _English_ and almost weeps in relief. "Good evening, Motherfuckers. Jack, _hit the ground._ "

Unquestioning, Jack throws himself sideways with all the force that he can. It's enough to tip the chair, and he hits the concrete with a painful thud. He hears screaming around him, and gunfire, and inexplicably, _laughter_ , a low, pleased chuckle that only stops with the screaming grows loudest, that continues softly after everything else stops. His chair is righted effortlessly, and the bag is pulled back off his head.

Jack takes deep, gulping breaths of fresh air, trembling with fear and adrenaline and relief, not even caring for a moment who his rescuer is. Then he hears that voice again, softer, still amused and a little surprised. "You were so deceptively innocent looking when you were young."

"What - " Jack looks towards the voice, and his words stutter to a halt. The man is slight, blond, dressed in black motorcycle leathers. There's a hole on the shoulder of the jacket, the leathers slick with blood, but he moves without any sign of pain. His lips and chin and scruff of a beard are slick with blood that drips off onto his jacket, but none of that concerns Jack. The only thing he can focus on is that _face_, completely identical to his own, like he's looking into some kind of possessed mirror in a horror show. "What the fuck?"

The man licks his lips, then draws a finger across his chin, wiping away the blood before sucking his finger clean. "You don't remember. Don't worry, you will in time. For now just know that I'm here to help you." He produces a switchblade, dropping to one knee to slice through the ropes that bind his ankles, then disappearing behind the chair. Jack feels his arms come free, and for the first time looks around the room at the bodies that lie motionless and covered in blood.

"What the fuck...."

"Yes, you already said that." The man presses a gun into his hand, flashing him a grin that's completely cheeky despite the gore on his face. "We need to get out of here, so I don't have time to explain. I need you to shoot these guys."

"But they're already dead."

"Yes, and it'll be a lot easier for you to explain how you escaped if you killed them, not me. _Shoot them._ "

Jack empties the clip in the various bodies, dropping the clip and reloading when his doppelganger hands him a new one. Then the man in leather takes his arm, pulling him out the door.

He's not quite sure how they end up in the front room of the run-down little house or where the owners are; everything is a bit of a blur. Shock, his training tells him. "I can't stay long," the man is saying, looking up at the sky through the blinds before pulling them shut, "but your army is looking for you, it should be safe for you to contact them here. Let me see to that cut on your shoulder." He starts undoing the buttons of Jack's uniform jacket, pulling off his t-shirt to access the crudely-bandaged cut where he'd been knifed when trying to fight against capture.

"Wait - who the hell are you? How do you look like me?"

The man pauses halfway through peeling off the blood-stained bandage. "You can call me David. I'm..." he stopped, regarding Jack, and for a moment Jack could see an intense mix of longing and loneliness cross the man's expression. Then he grinned, wide and cocky, eclipsing any sign of weakness. "You can think of me as your guardian angel."

"My _what_?"

David doesn't answer, just pushes him back into the room's battered wooden chair, straddling his lap as he tosses the bandage aside and fixes his mouth to Jack's shoulder.

The rush of euphoria that slams into him is so intense that later Jack would wonder if the man had put some kind of drug in the wound.... except later the wound has somehow disappeared. For now all he can feel is heat and ache and want, and without thinking he's clenched his hands at David's ass, pulling him closer to grind against the suddenly rock-hard erection that strains at Jack's fatigues. David groans against his shoulder, low and throaty and wanton, rolling his hips against Jack's. His fingers reach between them to pull at the closure of Jack's pants, and when he pulls from the cut on Jack's shoulder to claim his lips, his mouth is hot and demanding and tasting faintly of the coppery-metallic tang of blood.

"God, I missed you," David breathes, but Jack can't think to question, can't do anything but tug at his leather pants, rocking up into his hand as it curls around Jack's cock. Later he'll wonder about how the hell this happened when he'd never even _thought_ about men before; for now he can only think about how good it feels to ravish this man's mouth, fingers tangling in his hair.

David pulls back to shuck off his pants, and Jack catches a whiff of something metallic - gun oil? - before David's fingers stroke slick over the length of his cock. Then he's kissing him again, stealing Jack's moans with a kind of ferocity as he rocks down onto his cock. All Jack can think about is how fucking _good_ this is, hands clenched at David's ass as his doppelganger rides him hard, as Jack bucks up into the tight heat of his ass. All he can think about is wanting this forever, this desperate rut of bodies, David's breathless encouragements and yearning kisses. It's quick and dirty and desperate, and when David slips a hand between them to jerk his own cock, it's all Jack can take. He bucks up hard into David's ass, biting at his bottom lip and almost snarling as his orgasm hits just as hard as everything else has. David rides him harder even as Jack empties himself inside him, bucks down onto him until he comes with a harsh cry, body shuddering around Jack's still-hard cock as he comes in slick spurts all over Jack's stomach and chest.

For a moment they both sit there, panting, David's forehead pressed to his. Then the man gives him a hard kiss, pulling away with a soft sigh, leaning down to lick every streak of his own come from Jack's chest and his own fingers. He falls back to rest on his heels, pale legs bare and cock still half hard, looking up at Jack with a little satisfied smirk. "That was definitely worth waiting for."

"I don't understand half of what comes out of your mouth," Jack replies, because he feels he has to say -something-, and it's easier to say this then to try and ask what the hell just happened and how he's suddenly very much liking batting for the other team.

David chuckles, standing fluidly, slipping back into pants and boots. "You will in time. For now just know that I will look over you whenever I can." He leans in to press his lips to Jack's, warm and possessive, perching lightly on his lap. Then he produces the switchblade again, pressing the tip to his finger. He catches the drop of blood on his tongue, slipping a hand up into Jack's hair and claiming his mouth. The swipe of David's tongue against his sends the strangest shudder of heat through him, like an aftershock of orgasm, leaving his body warm and tingly and strangely languid.

"You're going to be amazing," David murmurs against his mouth, kissing him again warmly. "You're going to do so much good. I wish I didn't have to leave. But I'll find you again." He kisses Jack again, yearning, then slips off his lap, heading for the door.

"David - " Jack finds his voice again finally. "What is this? Who are you?"

David smirks, running a hand through his spiked hair. "Told you. I'm your Guardian Angel."

"I don't think Guardian Angels do... this."

David shrugs, still grinning. "Guardian something, at least. I'll see you around, Jack." Then, with a wink, he disappears into the night, just a silhouette against a dark sky tinged with a hint of the coming dawn. Jack pulls down a few slats of the blinds to peek out, but there is no sign of the man on the street.

He lets out a long sigh of breath, turning away find his shirt on the floor and pull it back on. Maybe it was the sex, but despite having been held captive for almost two days straight, he suddenly feels better than he's felt in years.

Unexplainable. But maybe not a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.

~~~


End file.
